I'm Not A Bad Person
by Jamie L. Vaughan
Summary: COMPLETE This is my own alternate ending for TTMR(movie version). It's written in the first person, in Ripley's POV. Please R


Author's Note: My own version of the ending to the film, The Talented Mr. Ripley. I had to do this as an assignment for my high school, Creative Writing class. The beginning dialogue is obviously directly quoted from the film, the rest is all my own. _Edit - I've fixed the formating because it drove me crazy! Looks a lot better now!_

Disclaimer: I don't own characters or story, both copyright of Patricia Highsmith.

After my short talk with Meredith I went back to my cabin. I had once again become Dickie. But it wasn't my fault, she knew me only as Dickie. Tom was just an acquaintance of Dickie whom she may have heard of once or twice, but he was a nobody to her. Tom was a nobody to all of them, even to Peter.

I had told Meredith that I was alone; Dickie was alone. Peter could look like anyone; her aunt had just been mistaken. Meredith was safe, safe from Dickie, safe from the truth. But Peter…Dickie was here alone.

I headed back to my cabin, Peter was there of course. I saw him looking at a libretto, I'm guessing for his concert. He seemed rather engrossed with it; I didn't want to disturb him.

"How was it?" He asked me. He didn't want to look at me, I don't know why.

"Good," I answered, almost serious, "But I think we should stay in here for the rest of the trip." I looked over at the coat rack but I was cold, so I kept mine on. Peter's robe was hanging there also.

"Was that Meredith?" I felt as if I was being interrogated, again! I decided to play dumb; another case of mistaken identity.

"Was who Meredith?"

"Meredith Logue. You were kissing somebody. Looked like Meredith." He mumbled, making all attempts to avoid eye contact. He had seen me. He'd seen Meredith kissing Dickie. I had kissed Meredith. Dickie and Meredith aren't together. Marge and Dickie are...no...Marge and Dickie were.

"Hardly kissing. Kissing off." I haphazardly said, shrugging my shoulders to ensure him that I was sincere.

"Didn't look that way to me-you know-from a distance." He sounded hurt. What if he would see her later on the trip? I noticed the robe again.

"I lied...to her. She thought she'd seen you." Another lie. I grabbed the cord from the robe. I don't think he noticed.

"Why lie?"

"Dickie and Peter, that's just too good gossip, isn't it?" Dickie! Why did I say his name. Dickie isn't with Peter. Dickie's dead. How could he be with Peter? Tom is with him. No, Tom is the one who's dead.

"Or Tom and Peter even." I don't think he caught what I had said. I think he's ignoring me. Dickie ignored me. I'll just humor him.

"Well that would be even better gossip." I faked a laugh. Dickie fakes a lot of things.

"Really, why?" He finally looked up at me. I guess Tom finally got his attention. He looked puzzled, "Sorry, I'm completely lost." Probably not as lost as Tom.

"I know. I'm lost, too." Tom speaks the truth, "I'm going to be stuck in the basement, aren't I? That's my...that's my..." I've told truths before and I was rejected. No, I rejected him. I could feel the sting of tears. Dickie caused so many tears, "Terrible and alone and dark..." I couldn't decipher his expression. My own tears, Tom's own tears, were blurring his vision, "And I've lied about who I am, and where I am, and so nobody can ever find me." I clutched the cord in my hands, the tightness burned. I'm in the dark, hiding.

"What do you mean lied about who you are?" The look on his face, he didn't understand. None of them would ever understand. Tom wasn't one of them. Dickie was, of course. They understood Dickie.

"I suppose I always thought...better to be a fake somebody, than a real nobody." Why was I telling him this. My conscience was making me. Tom's or Dickie's, I couldn't tell which. Both were fake to me.

"What are you talking about--you're not a nobody! That's the last thing you are." Oh Peter, always trying to make Tom feel at ease. Always believing you have the answers. Perhaps he should know. Perhaps Tom needs to escape from the darkness.

"Peter, I...I..."

"And don't forget. I have the key." The key. I wish that were true. But you can't use the key if you can't find the door.

"You have the key." I thought I'd humor him. I moved closer, "Tell me some good things about Tom Ripley. Don't get up!" I put my head on his back. His heart had a stead beat, "Just tell me some nice things." Cain was in need of his lullaby.

"Good things about Tom Ripley? Could take some time!" Now he was humoring me. My fingers turned purple.

"Tom is talented...Tom is tender...Tom is beautiful-"

"You're such a liar..." I laughed. I wondered if he meant it.

"…Tom is a mystery…" Dickie had told me this. But was Tom a mystery or was he just misunderstood?

"Tom is not a nobody. Tom has secrets he doesn't want to tell me and I wish he would." His wish was my command. His heartbeat was melodic; mine was going at a rapid pace. The tightness of the cord cut into my hands. My eyes burned.

"Tom has nightmares. That's not a good thing. Tom has someone to love him. That is a good thing!" I sobbed and moved my body upwards.

"Tom is crushing me." He said it almost jokingly. I cried even more.

"Tom is crushing me." His heartbeat sped up. I could hear mine within my ears. The pull on my hands was excruciating.

"Tom, you're crushing me!" Peter was in Tom's nightmare. It wasn't a good thing. The door remained locked, my only key was gone. I cried, alone.

* * *

I had gone back to my cabin. My tears were dry and guilt had set in. I wouldn't have to see anyone for the rest of the trip; at least until we arrived in Greece. But what about Meredith? She knows that Dickie is on the ship. He's on a much deserved vacation. She believes Dickie's in "R". She'll still expect to see me there then. 

I walked back into Peter's cabin. He lay there, looking at his libretto. His libretto…His concert! It hadn't occurred to me before. But had Tom realized it? A performance in Greece to an opera crowd; it **had** occurred to Tom. But could Tom get away with it?

I picked up Peter's score and looked it over; he didn't notice. I had played it before. Tom had played this piece before when the investigation was still active. Tom could play it again. It was meant to be. The deed would have a good outcome, Tom knew it would. I brought the libretto back to my cabin.

Peter was scheduled for his concert in two weeks. He was a wealthy man. I looked at his libretto. There's nothing more naked than you're handwriting. No one on the ship knew Tom. Tom was a nobody. Meredith knew Dickie. Her aunt was mistaken, Peter wasn't there. Dickie hadn't seen Peter in months. No one had seen him since the investigation; except for Tom…and Marge. But no one would believe her. No one believed that Tom had killed Dickie.

I sat in my cabin, studying his libretto. I heard the sounds of activity on the deck, my heart skipped a beat. Tom had to get rid of his mess. But he couldn't now. But what if someone came to the door? Peter was sleeping, that was all. His eyes were tired from reading his music all night.

Tom would have to move him before the trip was over but when and how? Not now, there are too many witnesses. Maybe I can do it later tonight, when no one's up on deck. But he'll float, people would see him. I looked around my room for an idea. Nothing! I went to his room. Peter didn't stir. I found the cord still lying on the bed. I quickly pocketed it. I saw a change dish sitting on the night stand next to a Bible. Both caught my eye. Then inspiration came.

I quickly took off his shoes and stuffed them full of change. I put them back on the best I could, it must have felt extremely uncomfortable. Then I took the nearest coat and put it on him; placing the Bible in one of the pockets. I then went back to my room to await midnight.

* * *

The air felt cool on my skin. And the wonderfully melodic sound of the waves was a blessing. I stared into the darkness, hoping my plan had worked. Nothing. Peter was gone along with his money and his beliefs. Tom had his music. I walked back to my cabin. Praying I wouldn't run into anyone. 

"Dickie!" I'm caught. I'm suddenly Dickie again, "What are you doing out so late?" If only she knew.

"I guess the same could be said for you Meredith."

"Well I have a God-awful time sleeping while I'm traveling. Just the thought of being unconcious on an ocean is frightful!" I'm sure Peter felt the same way.

"Personally the rock of a boat puts me to sleep..." Suddenly the image of the boat in San Remo with Dickie. Him threating me, mocking me. Our argument, the stuggle. It all came back to me in a rush. His voice in my head, _'Tom, I don't love you...I'm actually a little relieved you're going...You can be a leech...You can be quite boring!'_ The anger just built up inside me, like I wanted to burst all over again.

"DICKIE!" Meredith had jilted me from my thoughts.

"Huh? What?" Had I told her anything? Had she heard anything?

"I said 'what are your plans when you arrive in Greece', that is where you're going, isn't it?" She hadn't heard. Tom was safe.

"Oh, well I'm just going to probably do a little sight-seeing, become a tourist, keep out of sight, you know." Dickie had remained cool and confident.

"I see because of the whole...situation. Oh! But don't worry, I'll keep your secret. I never saw you!" She'd keep my secret, it was almost laughable. I believed I even grinned.

"Thank you Meredith. It really does mean a lot." Hopefully she would be satisfied.

"Dickie would you mind taking a walk with me?"

"Meredith, I-"

"Just a walk around the deck. I just want to talk somewhere more--formal--than this hallway...please?" I debated the request. I could say I was tired and go back to my cabin. However she would probably insist on walking me there and know where my cabin was, where Peter's cabin was.

"Sure, a walk sounds nice." She took hold of my arm and we proceeded to the deck. All I had to do was entertain her for a few minutes then I could go back to my cabin. Everything would be fine.

"It's such a gorgeous night, isn't it? I swear I could stay out forever on nights like this!" I looked over the side of the ship out into the sea; still nothing. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh don't worry, I won't keep you out here with me." She let out a laugh, I just smiled, "Dickie, I hope you don't find me too brash when I say this. But I just truly need to know, for my own sanity." I could feel myself turning red. I anxiously awaited the next statement. My eye then caught something in the water. Something floating! I stared at the object. Nothing. My eyes were playing tricks on me. Dickie suddenly came to mind.

"Dickie...Dickie!" She had brought me back once again.

"I'm sorry Meredith, what did you say?"

"I asked if 'you remember our conversation in Rome, after the opera'?" How could I forget.

"Of course, how could I forget?"

"Well remember when you told me that you still had feelings for Marge-" Oh Marge! Dickie said that he loved Marge, but I don't think he ever did. I told her I loved her, _'...just write it on a piece of paper or something, and keep it in your purse for a rainy day. Tom loves me.'_ She didn't care. She always accused Tom of the murder when no one else ever thought to, how naive.

"...care for me?" She had finished and I had missed it, again.

"I'm sorry Meredith, my mind has been racing around tonight, could you please repeat that?"

"Dickie, are you feeling all right? I don't think I have ever seen you so distracted before." She sounded concerned. Though whenever it is for their own well-being, everyone becomes concerned.

"I'm fine, I just have some things on my mind. The whole thing with Freddie has really been getting to me." It was at least partly true.

"Yes, Freddie..." She looked away from me for a moment. Did she know? "I mean can you imagine that. Being attacked in the middle of the night. You know that they say that the killer must have been in the back seat of his car, waiting for him to leave your hotel. It's absolutely horrible. The kind of person to do that to someone else, the mindset they must have to be in." She seemed relatively dumbfounded by this.

"Well perhaps the killer thought that someone like Freddie wasn't worth enough to live anymore. I guess it's almost like with your coat. Someone deemed that mink not worthy enough to live, so they killed it and made it into a coat. It's the same type of mindset."

"Well I hardly think that you can compare the killing of an animal to the murder of a person, especially of Freddie's notoriety."

"They're both murder, Meredith, no matter which way you look at it." She seemed to contemplate this for quite some time.

"Well either way, I hope that when Freddie's murderer gets caught that he is charged to the fullest extent of the law." Now it was my turn for silence. Tom had to change the subject.

"Meredith is this what you wanted to talk about? Because if it is than it is a little to macabre a subject for my taste."

"No it's not. I'm sorry, I should have probably chosen my words better. Actually what I did want to talk with you about is the subject of Marge." My heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, what about her?" I thought I heard someone behind us but it was just the murmer of the ship.

"Well, I was under the assumption that after our little tete-a-tete in Rome that you were going to be going back to to her in Mongibello. But yet I find you here, headed for Greece."

"Yes...it's...it's a long story Meredith and I-"

"We have all night. Please, I just want to know that I'm not getting pulled along with you. I mean that...kiss earlier...well I don't know about you but it felt like something more. I mean I'm not jumping the gun here am I?" If only she knew how long a story this was. Tom didn't want to get her involved in it at all, but Dickie always somehow did. Tom really didn't want to know anyone when he went to Greece, yet Dickie now will. The cause of all this chaos was Dickie, Tom just put on a simple jacket.

"Dickie?" Her voice was full of such pain, Dickie always caused such pain.

"Well Meredith, I don't know how much of this you may even want to hear." I went to sit down on a nearby bench.

"I want to know everything, please tell me." I don't think anyone would want to know everything. She sat down next to me and held my hands. They were so cold compared to mine.

"It's true, I **was** planning on returning to Mongibello. When we were at the opera, I did happen to run into Tom Ripley. Who you may hav-"

"Oh yes, I've heard of him before." Who hasn't heard of Tom?

"Well I ran into him and he told me that he had seen Marge there with Peter Smith-Kingsley. Not wanting to start a scene I told him to invite them to go with him to Dinelli's Cafe the next morning." I tried to think hard, putting all of the events in some sort of logical order.

"Yes, I remember. I waited for you, but you never showed."

"I know, I got tied up in some business that morning, it was out of my hands."

"I even met Peter and Marge there. Oh, she looked so distraught. I hope that you got to meet up with them. She looked so upset over you, like her heart had been literally ripped out of her chest!"

"I did...finally get there anyway. But when I got there I saw them embracing-"

"WHAT! No! I don't believe it! You must have been mistaken!"

"No, it's true. I...I mean there I was...going to Marge to ask her to take me back...and she...and she..." I started to cry. Wasn't it only a few hours earlier that I was crying? It must have been pent up for a while. Meredith tried to comfort me.

"I am so sorry! If I would have known...well then I never would have--I'm sorry, I apologize."

"No! I'm the one that should really apologize," I quickly stood up, wiping the tears from my eyes, "I made you think something that wasn't really there. I've led you on and I didn't really mean to. That kiss...I don't know what that was-"

"No, I'm the one with the blame. You were under such stress and there I was, just making it worse. I'm truly sorry." I could see that she was starting to cry as well. We stayed silent for a while. Just absorbing in what was said. Tom had built another lie upon his already fertile foundation.

"Well..."

"Yeah."

"Here we are then, yes? I'm just glad I finally know the truth."

"I guess so." Dickie had finally pushed her away.

"Well I guess there's really nothing more to say. I do hope that we can still be friends?" She sounded sincere.

"You bet." I smiled, I don't know if Tom really meant it.

"You know you really should always save pain for daylight!" I saw a few tears stream down her cheeks.

"It seems to be a habit of mine, but at least this way you'll feel better in the morning." She smiled, trying to keep herself from crying anymore. Seeing her obvious pain I hugged her. It may have even been Tom.

"I think this really is goodnight." She said softly, backing away from me.

"Do you want me to walk you-"

"No! It's all right, I can manage." She then turned and left me alone on the deck. I knew I wouldn't see anymore of her for the rest of the trip. There wouldn't be anymore of Dickie for the rest of the trip either.

* * *

The rest of my voyage was seen without incident and I arrived in Greece an unknown. I had caught a glimpse of Meredith and her aunt and uncle while checking my bags. She flashed me a small, mostly civil smile, but that was all. 

With Tom and Peter's passport in hand I boarded a train to my hotel in Athens. The ride made me remember all of the train rides I had taken with Dickie: Rome, the Jazz Festival, San Remo. Spending his father's money along the way. I was technically still spending his money, but now this time he had actual knowledge of it.

When I had arrived at my hotel I was slightly nervous. I had used Dickie's passport to check-in to hotels, hopefully I could use Peter's as well.

"Yes? Checking in?" The hotel clerk looked quite old, hopefully I could use that to my advantage.

"Um, yes. Under the name Smith-Kingsley."

"Yes, Mr. Smith-Kingsley, we've been expecting you. All I need is to see your passport sir." My hand literally shook as I reached into my coat and grabbed the passport. He took it in hand and examined in carefully. I tried to keep a straight face.

"I haven't gotten it changed since Oxford. I need a new one, I know."

"Yes, Mr. Smith-Kingsley," He handed the passport back to me, "it's standard policy, you understand."

"Yes, of course." I was saved again. The clerk than ordered his bellhops to assist me with my baggage.

"Enjoy your stay Mr. Smith-Kingsley."

That evening I attended Peter's rehearsal. Unlike in Italy, in Greece I was completely anonymous. I could be anyone or be no one. Meredith was the only person in the country who know who I was and even **she** wasn't talking with me. It was a freedom Tom had never experienced before. Tom could start a new. Forget everything about the past months and focus on the now. Dickie, Marge, Freddie; they were all out of my life. I **hoped** for good.

That night I returned back to my hotel not as a new man.

"Mr. Smith-Kingsley?" The hotel clerk called me over. "You have a letter." I could feel myself start to panic. Who could it be from? What did it say? Without saying anything I returned to my room and quickly opened it.

_ Peter,  
Please know that this letter is for your eyes only. The last we met I did not get to formally wish you good luck with your concert. However as much as I do, I don't consider it wise to discuss those matters in a letter so urgent. I believe that you are in serious danger! Contrary to what you may believe, Dickie was not in any way responsible for Freddie's murder. Nor was Dickie even responsible for his own. Mr. Greenleaf assures me that the police have found concrete evidence to support both deaths but I know, from the bottom of my soul, that Dickie would not kill himself. I know that Tom Ripley is responsible. He was last scene with Dickie and supposedly communed with Dickie for months after he left Mongibello. Then suddenly we find out that Dickie is dead and the only person around is Tom! I even found Dickie's rings in Tom's apartment in Italy. If that doesn't say he's guilty, than I don't know what does. Please don't think of me as Mr. Greenleaf and Detective MacCarron do. I know that I'm not crazy. I know that Tom is responsible for everything. And I think that you are in danger if you associate with him any longer. Please show this letter to no one and respond back as soon as possible._

_ With Love,  
Marge Sherwood_

Marge was trying to turn Peter against me. But she was too late. She was always too late. So she wouldn't get suspicious I sent back a telegram simply stating that I didn't find Tom a threat at all and that she was just trying to find someone to blame. Hopefully she would give up and be satisfied.

* * *

During the next week and a half I went to concert rehearsals, toured the city, and enjoyed life; my life. Playing in a concert hall was my one dream and I was finally living it. My whole life seemed to be a wonderful dream. The past locked away in my basement, never to be revealed to anyone. 

One night, in my hotel room, while I was looking over my libretto a knock came to the door.

"Mr. Smith-Kingsley?" _(Knock, Knock)_ "We need to speak with you." Cautiously I opened the door. There were two Greek men standing at the door.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"Mr. Smith-Kingsley, we've come across some items that belong to you." I was confused. Had they found some of Tom's luggage? If they did why would they be asking me about them. I tried to stay calm.

"Oh? And what items are these?"

"We can't disclose the nature of the items, however we need you to come with us to identify them."

"Well I would, but I really must look over my libretto for my concert tomor-"

"Sir, it will only take a few minutes. I think that you can spare them." I unwillingly followed them. They placed me in the backseat of a car.

"Excuse me, but where exactly are you taking me?"

"Just to international customs, so you can identify your belongings." I was starting to become paranoid, but remained silent through most of the ride. I spoke after about five minutes.

"How exactly important are these items, because if it's just some jewelry or a few pieces of clothing then I really don't want them." Dickie's rings suddenly came to mind. But that was impossible, Marge had them.

"I think that you'll miss these items Mr. Smith-Kingsley." Before he even finished, the car had stopped in front of the customs bureau, "Come with us, Mr. Smith-Kingsley." They violently grabbed me by my arms, forcing me to go with them.

"Hey, what the hell...what's going on?" It was then as we entered when I saw them: Detective MacCarron, Mr. Greenleaf, Marge and Meredith. Everyone there, almost like a mock funeral. A look of hate was across Marge and Mr. Greenleaf's faces. Meredith was standing next to them sobbing. Detective MacCarron kept on a stern demeanour. Tom knew what was going on.

"Listen, there is some mistake."

"There is no mistake Mr. Ripley. You are under arrest for the murders of Herbert (Dickie) Greenleaf, Jr., Frederick Miles, and Peter Smith-Kingsley." I could see Marge burst into tears at the sound of Dickie's name. Mr. Greenleaf tried to comfort her, but began sobbing along with her. I even began to cry myself.

They had taken me to a local police station that very night. Tom was like a mouse caught in a trap of his own making. He had taken too many chances and now he was caught. Detective MacCarron was outside talking with Mr. Greenleaf, probably about a reasonable punishment for poor, old Tom. Suddenly, Detective MacCarron walked in, I straightened up.

"Let's just cut to the chase. We both know that you're responisible. But I'm sure that you're curious as to how you got caught when you got off scot-free in Italy?" I didn't say a word.

"Well Tom," He sat down in the chair across from me, "You see Peter's body was found last week in a harbor just outside of Athens. At first it was thought to be an accidental drowning, after an autopsy the body was found to have been strangled beforehand. Now the real riddle was how Mr. Peter Smith-Kingsley was wearing a jacket belonging to a Mr. Ripley. Apparently in the same pocket that the Bible was found, there was also a boarding ticket for the Hellenes." As he spoke I could almost see myself making the wrong move. I saw my mistake.

"Now the other event that really put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was the letter that Mr. Greenleaf recieved about two weeks ago, from a Mrs. Joan Logue. She said that while vacationing to Greece, her niece had met up with Dickie Greenleaf and that she believed that he and Peter Smith-Kingsley were travelling together. Now of course Mr. Greenleaf thinks she is mistaken, his son is dead. So he writes back to Mrs. Logue. Now at around this time, Marge Sherwood recieves a telegram from Peter Smith-Kingsley in response to a letter she wrote him about you. Well it was only a matter of time before each piece fell into it's place and everyone came to the same conclusion. Now I can assure you, that Mr. Greenleaf will be making sure that you will be charged to the full extent of the law. Which is why you will be travelling back to the U.S. with us tomorrow. Now Mr. Ripley I-"

"Detective MacCarron, we need you to fill out some paper work."

"Yes, all right. Mr. Ripley, we'll finish this later."

He left me there, alone. In the end I always seemed to be alone. My life as I knew it was over. No more extravagent parties. No more beautiful scenery. No more beautiful people to surround myself with. No more Dickie. No more Peter. No more Marge. No more Meredith. No more Tom. I was a nobody again. I had nothing. Tom felt nothing. I could no longer keep Dickie and Peter alive. I could not keep Tom alive. We were all dead. We were in the basement. Alone, in the dark. Hidden from everyone and from ourselves. In the end what I did made sense. However terrible or horrible everyone may have thought it was, it made sense to me. I think it's that way with everyone. Everyone has their secrets; their basements. Because you'll never meet anybody who thinks they're a bad person and I'm one of them.

JLV


End file.
